


Breakdown

by Eilera



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Clint Needs a Hug, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I REGRET NOTHING, I just wanted to make Phil cry, Injury, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Phil Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilera/pseuds/Eilera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme Prompt:</p>
<p>I'd like to see Clint get seriously injured. The doctors think there's a good chance he won't make it. </p>
<p>Either Clint and Coulson have been in a secret relationship or they haven't confessed to each other yet. Anyway, Coulson is desperately trying to keep up his calm facade, but he can barely hold it together with Clint lying in a hospital bed and dying. Someone says something mean about Coulson not caring (most likely Tony, you know how he is) and Coulson just *breaks* down.</p>
<p>The Avengers are surprised.</p>
<p>Happy ending though, please!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Breakdown (Chinese Translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477261) by [lzqsk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzqsk/pseuds/lzqsk)



> So this is my first foray into The Avengers fandom. I hope that I do this amazing pairing justice. 
> 
> The original prompt on the Kink Meme was actually one of my own. So this is a self-fill. Hopefully no one minds.
> 
> Now in Chinese! The amazing lzqsk has kindly translated this into Chinese. It can be found on her blog at: http://lzqsk.blog100.fc2.com/blog-entry-318.html <3

They say your life flashes before your eyes just before you die.

Clint wishes this was true, because as much as his life kinda sucked, the last twelve years have been mostly awesome and he's not ready to go yet.

Definitely not yet.

He supposes its a good thing that he's not getting the instant replay or he wouldn't be able to see the freaking giant lobster getting ready to snap America's sweetheart in half. He wouldn't see the flames creeping up the side of the building he's perched on, high above the battle and too far away for anyone to catch him when the crumbling building falls to the ground. He has no more grappling arrows, he'd used the last one to get here. 

Clint has a choice, save himself or save the Captain, and that isn't really a choice at all.

Instead of running for his escape line Clint lines up his shot, the shaking, shattering building making it impossible for anyone but him. His explosive arrow sinks into the lobster's eye (and how embarrassing is that, he's dying thanks to a giant lobster) just as the 10 storey building finally gives up the fight. 

Clint is falling, he can hear the others yelling on the comms and what do you know, his life is kinda flashing before his eyes. Well, not really, because its just Phil. The man who sleeps in his socks and is unapproachable in the morning by anyone but Clint and coffee. The man whose face is so impassive that it makes the junior agents cry but whose eyes can show a thousand emotions if you only looked for them.

It's their anniversary tomorrow. 

He really doesn't want to go without saying goodbye but the ground is rapidly approaching and-

“Phil, I-”

Pain.

Darkness.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phil is up and running just as the building starts to collapse. Thor was still in Asgard, the Hulk and Steve are finishing off whats left of the giant, mutated lobsters and Tony is cursing over the comms as he flies as fast as he can to the figure falling through the sky.

To Clint.

Phil feels his blood run cold even as he shoots a Hydra agent in the face when he tries to stop him, shoving the body to the ground and out of his way without taking his eyes off his husband. Natasha is just behind him, a steady stream of Russian barely audible in his ear. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, slow down Legolas!” Tony yells, barrelling through the sky but he's too slow, they're all too slow.

“Phil, I-” Clint's voice is choked with fear and despair before cutting off with a sickening crunch and static.

Phil's heart stops.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It doesn't look good, I'm afraid.” Doctor Paull says solemnly. “His injuries are extensive. By all rights he should be dead. His reinforced uniform is what saved him.”

They're all standing outside of Clint's operation room as doctors scurry around their fallen teammate. Monitors are beeping furiously and doctor's are shouting and people are running in and out of the room and Phil can't think, can't breathe. He feels oddly detached, like he's asleep and having the worst nightmare of his life. 

The doctor is still talking but he can't focus, the words are filtering in one ear and out the other without engaging his brain. He hears things like _landed feet first_ and _several broken bones_ followed by _pierced lung_ and _cracked skull_. 

_May not wake up._

Phil can hear the words but comprehension is slow. The room tilts alarmingly around him and he grips the chair in front of him to stop himself from falling. 

He wants to wake up now.

Please.

“I've arranged this room for you all to wait in peace. Feel free to stay here as long as you like. I will let you know as soon as anything changes.” 

Phil blinks and tries to forcefully pull himself together. His veneer of calm would usually settle over his face like a well-worn mask, but this time the mask is too small, he's stretching it too thin. It wasn't going to last.

He needs to get out of here.

“I'm going to stop by my office and pick up some field reports. I expect you all to have them filled out by 0800 tomorrow.” He's impressed with how steady his voice is.

“Seriously? Is he serious right now?” Tony blinks, his voice incredulous. 

“Tony.” Steve warns, placing his hand on the billionaire's shoulder, his voice weary and layered with guilt. Clint had saved his life, but most likely at the cost of his own.

“No, what the fuck Coulson?” Tony shrugs off Steve's gentle hand, taking a step towards Phil and pointing an accusing finger right in his face. “Clint is _dying_. He's- _fuck_.” Tony cuts himself off, like he is so mad he can't even get the words out. 

“That's enough, Stark.” Natasha's voice is cold, her eyes flashing dangerously.

But Tony is visibly shaken and if Phil had been thinking at all clearly he would know it was shock. They were all likely suffering from it. 

“Now is really not the time for this.” Banner cuts in, forcing himself between Tony and Phil. 

“Fine. Not my problem he doesn't even care that we may never see Clint alive again.”

Phil can feel the mask cracking, bits and pieces of it falling off at a rapid rate and he can't stop it, can't piece his calm back together, can't-

“ _Clint_.” His voice comes out as a rough and broken sob as the room twists around him and suddenly he's on the floor, Natasha's arm around his shoulder. His whole body is shaking visibly, his heart stuttering violently with anxiety. He feels like he's going to be sick, but he can't calm down. He can't _breathe_ and Clint is dying. Clint is _dying_. 

“Breathe.” Natasha orders, rubbing his back soothingly. “Breathe Coulson.”

“Shit Agent, I didn't-”

“They're _married_.” Natasha growls, cutting off the billionaire's guilty apology.

Everyone else blinks in surprise and sudden understanding.

Bruce kneels in front of him, checking his pulse. “I think he's having a panic attack. I'm going to grab a doctor. Just keep him breathing.” He runs from the room.

Phil shakes his head slowly, his fingers clutching the necklace with his wedding ring dangling from it's chain and his eyes burn with tears. He remembers Clint's wide-eyed disbelief when Phil had knelt in front of him and asked him to stay with him for the rest of their lives. _For the rest of their lives_. He'd foolishly hoped it would be forever. “I can't, I can't...oh, God.” He chokes, gasping for breath as his heart tries to beat its way out of his chest. Part of him hopes it will. He won't need it anymore if Clint is gone.

He can't imagine what he will do if Clint doesn't make it.

Steve tosses a blanket over his shoulders and offers him a glass of water but Phil's shaking hands just cause the water to slosh over the glass, spilling to the floor to mingle with his tears. He can't stop the tears just like he can't stop his husband from dying. All his competence and control is for nothing. 

Vaguely he feels a cold swab on his arm and the prick of a needle. 

He welcomes the darkness.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phil opens his eyes to the stark white walls of medical, the lights overhead just shy of blinding. Why was he in medic-

_“Phil, I-” Clint's voice is choked with fear and despair before cutting off with a sickening crunch and static._

Instantly he's wide awake and sitting up quickly to scan the room. Phil's heart lurches when he notices the figure in the adjacent bed, various tubes and machines attached to his husband's body.

“He made it through the surgery. He's still alive.” Natasha says calmly, pushing him back onto the bed before returning to her nearby seat. 

“We're waiting to see if he wakes up.” Steve adds from across the room, his sketchpad out in front of him though he doesn't seem to be drawing much of anything.

Bruce is sitting at the end of Clint's bed, his brows furrowing as he flips through the archer's medical reports. He takes a moment to look up at Phil and give him a soft smile.

Stark is fluttering around the room like a drunken butterfly, poking and prodding at various objects and studiously _not_ looking at Phil. He picks up two pens, drumming them on Clint's bedside table in a rapid rhythm. “So. How long have you and Robin Hood been hitched? And why wasn't I invited to the bachelor party?” 

Ignoring Natasha's glare, Coulson climbs out of the stiff hospital bed and flops onto the conspicuously empty chair next to Clint's bed. He want's to hold the archer's hand but his body is covered in bandages and casts and he doesn't want to do any more damage. There's more than enough as it is. He settles for gripping the metal railing surrounding the bed, his knuckles white.

No one is bringing up his earlier meltdown and he's grateful for small mercies. He can't even bring himself to be pissed that they sedated him.

Phil grabs the tattered remains of his calm, carefully gluing the pieces back together with the steady sound of Clint's heart monitor. The constant blips are a welcome reminder that all is not yet lost, and he forces himself to relax.

“10 years and still going.” he replies quietly.

His archer is nothing if not a survivor.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Against all odds, Clint opens his eyes a week later. 

Phil stares into his husband's blue eyes for all of five seconds before he swoops down, capturing the younger man's lips with his own without any regard to the other occupants in the room.

Thor (back from Asgard) cheers loudly as Natasha starts trying to herd everyone out of the room. 

“How come _I_ don't get a wake up kiss?” Stark whines loudly while shamelessly snapping pictures with his Stark phone as he's shoved through the door.

Clint tries to flip off the billionaire but any movement on his part causes immense pain. He foresees much physical therapy in his future. “Ow, fuck.” He croaks, smiling as Phil offers him ice chips and yeah, this is why he married the man. Competence is sexy. 

“I knew you'd wake up.” Phil whispers, gently touching his forehead to Clint's. 

“I didn't wanna leave you with the Death by Giant Lobster paperwork.” The archer manages to grin, his eyes already drooping closed again.

“Rest. I'll be here when you wake up.”

“I know.”

~End


End file.
